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The House

by L.R. Harrell

Quifi Marshall strolls back
and forth, up and down the lineOf the street, by the
ticking of the courthouse clockShe makes rounds by the
dozens, finding the slightest adventureIn the rows of bushes and
broken, dead limbs that reach out to her

Life Through Seasons

by LAKSHMI K S

The spring dawns with its scent,
The stream glows and dances all along.
The birds wake up to the sweet sunshine,
And sing a new song in the most pleasant pitch.
As the leaves sprout from their slumber,
And refresh themselves for the day.
As the breeze pats over the blossom,
The child peeps into the gifted earth.
Crying and sleeping for the rest of the day,
He gasps and gazes all through.
Like the new born leaves of a tree,
He enlivens the world around.
The ravishing summer arrives,
With its gorgeous sunshine.
The leaves turn to vivid green,
And fruits show up in clusters.
The child grows to youthful years,
With an unsettled and reflective mind.
The world is all joy for him,
For he has his own path to go.
Then comes the mighty monsoon,
To fulfill the dreams of all.
The splashing sound of water everywhere,
Enthralls the hearts of living things.
The youth steps into the mantle of a man,
Wise and sagacious than exuberant.
Looks for others, cares the near,
Plays a pre-destined role on this stage
Now comes the chilling autumn,
With full of withered trees.
The leaves yellow and wilting,
Doomed for a complete rest.
The man in his crippling old age,
His thoughts and actions greying.
With remorse and sorrows,
He slugs the rest of life peacefully.
Last of all comes the tranquil winter,
The trees shed their leaves in cold.
Dreariness and decay everywhere,
Nature sleeps in full peace.
The impending time to exit from the world,
Haunts the man in wake and sleep.
His travails end all on sudden,
And slithers into eternal peace.